Thinking Blogger Awards

Taylor gifted us with the "Thinking Blogger Award" a few days back. Amazed and humbled as I am by the words she wrote about what gets shared here, I do want to pass the good stuff on:

Swan's writing is consistently engaging, easy to read, and
thought-provoking. She has written about major life-changing events this past
year that have led her on quite a rocky journey, but through it all, she's
shared it with us. Her courage is breathtaking to me. I learn volumes from her
simply by her demonstration of grace under pressure, determination in the face
of challenge, and absolute devotion to those she loves, always - and in all
ways.

The rules are:

1. If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that make you think,
2. Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme,
3. Optional: Proudly display the 'Thinking Blogger Award' with a link to the post that you wrote (here is an alternative silver version if gold doesn't fit your blog)."

I believe that many who inspire me, who I find to be good and worthy companions as I try and find my way through the twists and turns have already been named by others ahead of me... Still, let me see if I can point out a few worthy writers who deserve mention if they haven't already been named...

morningstar writes consistently, knowledgeably, vibrantly, and with a breadth that is unmatched. Her blog inspires, delights, and uplifts me on a regular basis. She brings balance and a sense of reality to my daily reading rounds that I count on for the grounding so essential to keeping this whirling existence solid when it can seem sometimes ephemeral and fragile. I am delighted to count this accomplished lifestyler as a friend and companion on "the journey."

danae is a calm and steady voice in the sometimes overheated blogging world. So often, I find myself nodding when she writes about the everydayness of service and slavery. Although our backgrounds and paths are quite dissimilar, our understandings quite often fall into sync. When I am most shaken by the chatter of many many "me too" voices, I find this blog a haven of reasonableness and mature thought.

Lord Spooner (danae's Master) writes a sometimes infrequent but deeply thoughtful and often challenging blog that represents one of the very few intelligent and informed outlets for Dominant voices that I have found.

Art Through Service is written by darren (a relative newcomer), who I find to be amazingly open and thought provoking. The family constellation is different than mine, but the concerns are remarkably congruent and the awareness illumination brought to them at this site is provocative and consistently interesting.

swan

Awakening

Back in October, I wrote this about needing to be brought back into some sort of sensory awareness of my own body. I was, at that point, reaching the low ebb of my ability to continue to believe that there would ever be a point when things would get any better for me physically or emotionally. That piece was "analytical," and experiential, but it was also, in its own way, desperately emotionally needy. I was in pain; locked inside and unable to break out of the shell I'd wrapped up in, and needing to be sprung from the prison I'd created for myself.

These last days have been, for me, a tidal wave of sensory experience. I am physically awake again. My BUTT HURTS! One of the lasting results of the stepped up levels of discipline that I've been subjected to, is that I have some pretty pervasive deep bruising that is a continual sensory reminder. And that is a good thing -- a very good thing. I am back into a physical realm that I've been too long out of, and (for someone who works like I do) where the body goes, the head seems to follow... I've dropped out of the need or desire or even move to control or push or drive things -- that hasn't ever really stopped being true since the knee replacement almost two years ago (when I became the hyper-vigilant nurse and guardian). I've felt myself come back into my slave space, in the way I hold myself, in the way I sound to myself, in the way I move and breathe and react to things. Mostly, I feel my body waking up and responding again -- it feels female again suddenly, and I am delighted in it.

Not to put too fine a point on it, but I'm horny. Pretty much all the time. Again. After more than a year of near "rigor mortis," things are awake and alive. Miraculous! I'm not exactly sure of the count, but I think it might be that there've been four orgasms in the last five days -- that might be more orgasms than I've managed in probably the last nine or ten months. My dreams are full of all sorts of wildly sexual images. I'm finding myself, not angry, but aroused at the end of sessions. I've remembered to simply make love like the animal thing that it is -- just go for it, feel it, do it, love the doing. And guess what? It works like that, when I don't get caught up in thinking too much... DUH!

It really does feel like I've been all wrapped up in some sort of plaster or plastic or bubble wrap or something... Numb to every single thing for just ages. Hard to feel anything above the roar of the overwhelming anger and grief. Now I'm awake and alive and soft and tender and everything suddenly FEELS...

Of course, the dilemma now, is what does He do with me?

BOINK, BOINK, BOINK!!!

swan

Sticks!

Sticks. Ugly. Unfinished. A bundle of sticks. Along with the TWO paddles that came to replace the ONE that I broke, He ordered this bundle of what purports to be rattan. Whatever!

John Hanson, wherever he may be, would be appalled. That his good name and the reputation that he built up for such fine quality and lovely workmanship would come to be associated with such pitiful and unattractive merchandise...

Call me a snob. I'm just awfully visual. And, yeah -- they hurt like a sonofabitch.

swan

Understanding Some Things

Both mel and morningstar offered me interpretations of the destruction of the paddle that have helped me think a bit more clearly about the whole event. Their thinking about it has been helpful, partly because I have had trouble getting a clear sense of it for myself -- the actual incident happened so quickly (and I was in such a blind panic and rage) that I really do not have any mental pictures to look back at as I consider it all.

They focus on the destructive moment as an ending of a long period of resentment and frustration that has had me "stuck" for the last two years. That feels true and wise and useful in terms of interpreting this. It doesn't excuse my actions, of course, but it helps me think about where I've been and what I've been doing.

I believe that this falls into the realm of what I understand to be a spiritual "epiphany;" that flash of understanding or realization that sometimes occurs out of swirling chaos or confusion (for me at least). Here are definitions of the term that I was able to find (exclusive of the Christian scriptural "date" meaning):

Epiphany --
a. A sudden manifestation of the essence or meaning of
something.
b. A comprehension or perception of reality by means of a sudden
intuitive realization

I've spent almost two years slowly losing everything that I once identified as essential to my identity, and surely as integral to my slave-self. One by one, I've let go of, or pushed away the bits and pieces of my life that were once proud and cherished attributes of who I was when I came to Him five years ago...ability to submit, my power to manage and embrace pain, my femininity, my sexual responsiveness, my joyful heart, my generous spirit, my sense of peace and tranquility, my trust, my faith... I've grown angry, bitter, fearful, timid, resentful, guarded, cold, distant, suspicious, mean, sad, and depressed... Through it all, I've wondered what happened, wondered how to reverse it all, railed at the unfairness of everything. AND, in my heart of hearts, I've blamed a good bit of it on Him; wanted Him to come and find me where I was sitting there, lost and afraid by the side of the road, hoping someone would find me and hold me and tell me that I was still OK and still worthwhile and still "theirs."

Of course, as I sank into the darkness, I could never actually say any of that. And the further I got from the woman He came to love, the harder it was for Him to stay connected -- a viscious circle... He kept prescribing spankings, but without the information He needed about what was really going on in my head, and without me having the information to share... we never got off dead center with that notion. To be fair, the picture has been pretty cloudy along the way. There have been real health issues, and real work issues, and real life stressors. Not all of this has been me just being randomly nuts... Still, I can get fairly sincerely crazy all by myself without a whole lot of extra input if you don't watch me carefully, and for awhile there, He got out of the habit of watching me... Put it all together, and we were off to the races.

The broken paddle stopped us both. Cold. It was such a stark moment. It was visceral on so many sensory levels -- sound, texture, visual... In that instant, all the air left the room, and our world stopped and stood absolutely still. What has been termed "reset" is literally that for the two of us.

This last week DOES feel like a re-birth to me. I feel newly formed. Newly sure and newly strong; newly soft and newly safe. To be sure, I am still intensely and deeply imbedded in a regimen that He is directing and guiding, and it is not at all light or "easy." However, I am not finding it onerous or anxiety producing. Instead it is building a sense of comfort, place and certainty within me that has been missing for many, many months. Whatever He asks for or presents me with, feels good and affirming and real and positive. I can't tell you when that was really true in the last year or so. And, I am feeling sexy again. It is as if that part of me had been locked away and is now released to play again. I want Him and want to be with Him and want to be touched by Him. My responses are awakening, and I am in awe -- and there are NO chemicals creating that effect!

If this continues, it may be that this old bird will become not a swan but a phoenix...

swan

Feelings about the broken paddle

We are coming through another stressful week, and I remain in a "re-training" and "re-setting" phase as a result of my break with protocols and discipline some days ago. There have been various life issues that have intervened these last days so that the remaining strappings have been put in abeyance. I know that I have two more sets to go. Those will come -- perhaps even this afternoon. Part of me is fearful. Part of me is anticipating the completion of this part and the moving onward.

There remains the need to deal with the paddle that I broke. For me, that is more difficult; more laden with layers. It is not merely a "toy." There was the moment when I heard the dreadful, shocking crack it made as it split. The startling visual impact as the two pieces fell there on the bed with the exposed inner whiteness of the wood starkly contrasting with the stain that had been so lovely and seemingly indestructible only a moment before... There is the, for me, now forever etched in memory moment when I thought that I could simply grab up that sharply pointed, jagged piece, and stab it into Him, and end all my frustration and resentment and agony -- forever (the sheer fury that was in me in that instant). There is the irreplaceable nature of the actual paddle. It was a Hanson paddle -- one made during the time when John Hanson still owned Hanson Paddle Werks, and signed by the man himself. There is still a Hanson Paddle Werks (of course), but John is gone. He tells me that there are replacements on the way, but it won't be the same. Even deeper than that, I broke a piece of our history. That paddle was part of the original training/breaking time that He went through with me in our first summer together. I struggled mightily with that paddle, learning to hate it, fear it, dread it, and ultimately, embrace it as an object that bonded me to Him -- represented Him -- called Him to my mind and my heart as few other things did or ever have since. AND now I have broken it. I have always thought that I would dance on the day that I could triumph over that evil paddle, but I find instead that I am only sadly bereft.
And so, I have come part way through this reset.
I expected to be very hurt and very traumatized. I am not. I am not eager for the pain, and yet I am calm. I feel sure that He will take me through exactly what is needed and appropriate. Somehow, after all that there has been in the last year and some months, I am finally feeling like He has come back to get me from the place where I was lost and left behind. I am completely certain that, whatever this needs, He will figure it out, and make it be alright. Somehow, in the breaking of that poor bit of wood, I found the key back to the beginning and onto the path again.

swan

Punishment, reconnection, suffering, joy

I was particularly taken with Tangerine's comments to swan as she read of swan's recently dramatically out of bounds acting out behavior. She talked about not undersanding the perameters of our relationship and its dynamics , and is clear they are not for her, but talks too of working to understand them and of trusting swan to know what is good for her. Too she was clearly concerned that I would beat the day lights out of her:)

As I read back over her comments and swan's posts I imagine her exploration with us is an exercise in sociological exploration not unlike what Star Trek viewers had when they learned of the romantic and erotic customs of Kling On's:) It is a great act of friendship for one to be so interested in learning and respecting the alien practice of a freind without judging her, and yet caring that she will be well. This is such a rare gift of freindship. It is so uncommon for those who share our sensual/erotic orientation to receive anything but harsh judgement from those whose orientations are more "traditional." I know how much it means to sue. Thank you Tangerine, and everyone else here too. The friends she has here mean so much to her especially in the last year or so. I feel connected to you too for caring for my beautiful slave and our family.

sue's previous post reveals that she is being disciplined currently and that it is proving to be a very reconnecting expereince for her. We have for too long, each of us, allowed ourselves to draw apart as we have dealt with numerous crises and stressors in our lives. She felt she was avoiding burdening me. I was wanting to not cause her further distress as she has struggled with the effects of her surgically created menopuase on her mind and body. We have learned we both went too far.

Swan is having a refresher in basic slave training. She is being reminded how my slave behaves when I decide she is to be punished whether for pleasure, maintenace, or corrective discipline. She is being reminded that she is mine always and all ways....that she is my property body and soul, and that she is my most cherished posession, along with her sisterheart my sly (t). She is being reminded that she will do what I say when I say it. She is relearning that when I blister her she will accept the gift of her discipline gratefully and respectfully, without any resistance, and that failing to do so will dramatically increase the intensity of the pain her punishment will entail. She is being reminded that she wears my initials carved into her shoulder because she belongs to me and to no one else. She is reminded that she will care for herself in everyway and that most importantly that care involves NO NEGATIVE SELF-TALK ABOUT HER BEAUTY, HER SEXUALITY, HER ATTRACTIVENESS, HER WORTH AS A WOMAN, HER WORTH AS A PERSON, HER WORTH AS AN EDUCATOR, HER VALUE TO THE WORLD, AND HER ROLE IN THE COSMOS. She is relearning that no self-denigration of my most prized cherished possession will be tolerated, and that the consequences of any such transgressions are excrutiatingly painful and merciless.

swan is being routinely whipped with our rubber punishment stap. She recieved two blisterings yesterday and will receive others in the days ahead. For Tangerine, so you know, the rubber punishment strap is about 18 inches long, a 1/4 inch thick, and two inches wide, attached to an 8 inch long black wooden handle. It is intentionally designed to be an implement of particularly severe corporal punishment. Each stoke of it imparts a mighty cracking sound and unbearably atrocious stinging. swan is receiving 13 of these in each dose currently (which is actually not that severe compared to blisterings she has undergone....and, at times, enjoyed:) She is not enjoying these. She knows they are punishing her for her disobedience, disrespect, and self-denigration.

Tangerine, you do not like to see anyone or anything suffer. Certainly each time I strap swan she is suffereing intense pain. She cries out, begs, and cries as she counts each stroke and thanks me for it and then thanks me for spanking her at the end. At the end she has erased everything form her mind but the blistering pain of her bottom. She is totally open and vulnerable and reset, sort of like restarting a computer.

Swan is more centered, more happy than she has been for months. She is feeling no longer lost and adrift. Our bond is renewed, reinvigorated. She had an orgasm loving me after her last strapping. This was her first since she discontinued her hormone therapy, and without use of any speical drugs or aides. She is suffering so much less than she has for months.

I too am feeling like finally I have found a strategy to help her other than insisting that we explore medical and psychological treatment options. Magically, it is a strategy that relies on my unique gift....the pratice of adult consensual erotic and/or disciplinary spanking.

If you were here Tangerine you'd see swan suffereing tremendously when she is spanked. You'd also see her suffereing less in her life, than she has in the last year.

All the best:)

Tom

Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you've imagined.

Talking about "Punishment" -- and Not

Tangerine commented:

"it's hard for me think of what fate may befall you ...So I know it's His
call, but my ...hope is that he doesn't beat the daylights out of you...I know
you completely trust Him."

So, that set me off thinking in this direction... about what has brought it all to this point and how it has come to this place for me and for us. I doubt that it works this way for everyone, or even anyone else, but here's the inside workings of our struggle to communicate around the layers that are our version of M/s.

Ours is, by now, a "mature" power dynamic. We've been learning our way together with this for something close to seven years. Like all relationships, ours has grown and shifted and changed as we've learned and grown and changed. It is my strong belief that doing this as adults "of a certain age" has advantages -- however, there have certainly been challenges to that as well.

As I look back over the last couple of years, I'd say that where we are now really began with the crisis that led us to decide that the time had come when He could no longer avoid the knee replacement surgery. That very difficult surgery and its lengthy recovery and rehabilitation period quite literally "chopped Him off at the knees." For weeks leading up to the surgery, we lived with a great fear, and then for weeks afterwards He lived with a level of debilitation and dependence that was almost total. This placed our normal dynamic in an "upside down" mode that, while absolutely necessary, was enormously stressful for us all. Surely, it was an opportunity for me to serve at a very deep level, but it required a relinquishment of the usual levels of control that took us into uncharted territory. Even as He regained strength and function, we found it hard to resume our previous roles.

We'd only just come through that scary time, when the "j-other" came bursting onto the scene. The emotional whirlwind that she created in our lives left us shaken, and uncertain. I learned to withhold my feelings, my belief in the idea of poly, my trust in my own intuitions. Withholding those things, at that level, created distance between us that had never been there before -- and it harmed us in very real ways, especially coming when it did, and especially because it remained unbridged.

Then we dropped headlong into the health-related / sex-linked battle that washed me away into the nowhere land of post hysterectomy hormone hell. It would have been difficult enough in and of itself, but I was unmoored at my foundations.

Add to that, the unending swirl of life stressors that we've faced: aging and ill parents, repeated serious financial and job/career challenges, assorted health issues, the worries that come with watching young adult children do what they must... And there's been more than enough to break even a normally strong heart. I've convinced myself that what I needed to do was be strong, keep my needs to myself, not "burden" Him with what was going on inside myself. Over and over again, I've told myself that He doesn't have the time or energy to worry about the silly little things and worries that are going on inside my head -- shouldn't have to use His limited free time to tend to me. So, I've worked hard to be as quiet and strong and "not-needy/vulnerable" as I could be. The whole time, I have been starving, yearning, needing Him and needing His guidance and the sense of His power in my life.

I don't like the business of being a needy, demanding slave. On the other hand, at some point, there's a break line where there simply isn't enough meaningful contact to maintain the sense of genuine belonging. I have been telling myself I belonged to Him, reminding myself, practicing it -- but feeling it less and less. There is only so much of that that one can do alone.

In doing that -- in that "self-talk," I've deprived us both of a vital connection... My intent has been good, but the reasoning has been faulty, and the outcome has been negative.

Ultimately, I suppose, my behavior in this last incident was a sort of shriek. He saw it. He heard it for what it was. We've spent real time moving back and forward. What some would see as "punishment," I am experiencing as reassurance. It is not easy in the physical reality, but it tells me what I've been questing after: I am not "out there" somewhere all by myself; I am not left alone; He does see me, hear me, know me completely, care for me utterly... He can and will pull me back, hold me close, control me exactly in the way that is needed.

So, for those who would worry. Please don't. I am well and fine and calmer than I have been in many, many months. I am sure of His love and His care. He will make sure that it will be alright. Maybe, finally... this will be good.

swan